


in each i slip fall & laugh

by turnip (calculus)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coffee Shops, Drabble Collection, M/M, Magic, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 12:38:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15729570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calculus/pseuds/turnip
Summary: meet me here / in whatever some-odd years / perhaps longer / perhaps tomorrow / I’ll be here- jeremy radin,the banana roomthree ways it could've happened.





	in each i slip fall & laugh

**Author's Note:**

  * For [owl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owl/gifts).



> i copped out and tried to do a sampling of your prompts list instead of a singular prompt. i'm sorry for me lmfao

**i.**

 

 

He wears a new shirt every month. The color varies, but it’s always bright and colorful, and Wonwoo thinks it fits the boy each time. He gives Wonwoo the same smile, too, wide and red-cheeked, like the sweet pink of ripening fruit; Wonwoo puts each one in a box, meticulously labeled for the day the boy comes in and the color of his shirt.

They sell charms here, and the boy comes like clockwork with his sunshine smiles and his bright clothes, asking for a different charm every month. Wonwoo has sold him so far: a forgetfulness charm, to help the boy remember what he’d might left behind at home; a weather charm, for all the sudden weather changes that have been happening, rain to sun to rain again; a locator charm, to help him know his lefts and rights from the strangling streets radiating from the subway stations; a pepper-up charm, for the days he needs to have extra cheer to get through it all.

He hasn’t learned the boy’s name yet, and that’s really nobody’s fault but his at this point. Wonwoo likes a mystery, but he likes the wait of adventure more. He has a feeling he’ll find out soon enough, if he just keeps waiting and holding onto the boy’s smiles. There’s a storm coming in his bones.

The boy wears bright soft yellow today, with white stripes circling his wrists and neck, and Wonwoo is hard-pressed to think of little else than a star in his orbit. He manages a nod and the normal greeting.

“How can I help you today?”

He waits a beat, and the boy presses a smile into his hands with delicacy. It feels warm in his palms, and Wonwoo finds himself straightening from his slouch automatically. It’s determination today: the boy has come for help.

“I need a courage charm, Wonwoo-ssi,” the boy says, eyes crinkling from the apples of his cheeks.

“Oh? You don’t seem the kind of person who’d need an extra boost,” Wonwoo says with a curiosity his old master would’ve chided him for. It’s okay, though—he hasn’t needed his master in a long time. He props his chin up on a fist, leaning over the stained wood of his countertop. “Are you going on a trip?”

The boy shakes his head, lips ready and secretive. “You’ll find out soon, I should hope.” He lifts his head, face open and pink.

Wonwoo laughs softly, and leans over, tugging the boy’s chin in his grip. He presses a warm kiss to his lips, and the burst of magic transfers with a touch, sinking into the boy as he inhales, like the laziness of a breath in sleep. He keeps him there a second longer, takes a kiss for himself, remembers the taste of him—cherry and sharp, the linger of payment. He pulls away with his own smile, curled around the budding giddiness of transference, and meets the boy’s eyes.

“I hope so, too,” Wonwoo murmurs. The boy flushes.

“You’ll be the first one I tell, Wonwoo-ssi.”

 

 

**ii.**

 

 

The clatter of shoes across the storefront is familiar by now, the squeak of tennis shoes against the tiles a calling card, and Wonwoo smirks behind the pages of his newest book, a collection of poetry by Lee Byeong-yul recommended by Seokmin.

“Help, Wonwoo-ssi, I may actually pass out before I get to the counter,” whines Kwon Soonyoung piteously, slowing his steps once he's assured that Wonwoo’s noticed him, reaching out a quivering arm for dramatic effect. Wonwoo snorts, but can't help the unbidden grin at his antics, bringing his book down to his lips to smother the amusement.

“Yah, you better not throw yourself on the floor and scare away my customers, Soonyoung-ah, or I will cut off your caffeine intake,” Jeonghan says calmly from the coffee machine, topping off a medium blond roast for a customer. Soonyoung blanches, and makes sure his back is turned before sticking out his tongue at him; Wonwoo snickers. “And stick that tongue back in your mouth.”

Soonyoung makes a face but places himself at the counter finally, slumping over the formica with a great sigh. Wonwoo closes the book, not even bothering to play at reading anymore, and softly whacks him in the head.

“Hey, this is a respectable eating establishment. Get your grimy college boy germs off my counter,” he says with a grin, steadily hitting him until Soonyoung lifts his head up and brushes him off.

“Coffee, Wonwoo-ssi, please, don’t let me wither away like this,” he begs, pulling out the watery puppy eyes that Wonwoo regrets every day telling Soonyoung is his weakness, and Wonwoo crumples like one-ply tissue.

“All right, all right, keep your pants on,” he hedges, grabbing the largest cup size and writing in the order for a red eye with an extra espresso shot and three pumps of simple syrup. He ignores the judgmental expression on Jeonghan’s face as he places it into the waiting docket, and rings Soonyoung up.

Soonyoung wordlessly slides over his money, crumpled won bills that likely have been sitting in his jeans for the past few days, and Wonwoo wavers a moment before sighing and zeroing out the transaction and pushes the money back.

“Stop, stop, you’re literally making me feel like I’m stepping on your favorite dog,” he says, dropping his face in an open palm to escape the stare. “Just pick a pastry and sit somewhere where I won’t have to see your garbage face.”

“You love me and my garbage face, Wonwoo-yah, don’t even try,” Soonyoung crows and eagerly hovers over the glass display of their pastries shelf before pointing at the new cherry-chocolate layer cake slices that Seungkwan had brought in from their wholesalers. “This one—this one is clearly calling my name today.”

He plates it up quickly, making sure to grab a slice with particularly bright red cherries because Soonyoung really likes his fruits, and slides it across the counter with a fork. The laser eyes from Jeonghan are possibly boiling the side of his face, but Wonwoo holds it in, focusing on Soonyoung’s small shout of delight.

“You are the realest MVP, Wonwoo-goon, I owe you for this,” Soonyoung says with sincere gratitude, reaching across to clasp his hand, and it feels like Wonwoo’s going into shock with the sudden contact. Soonyoung doesn’t seem to notice, just grabs his plate and happily makes his way down to the drinks counter, and Wonwoo is left standing, frozen, hand still in mid-air.

“Honestly, you’re just the smallest bit pathetic,” Jeonghan remarks, smirking and not at all sympathetic.

“Hyung, please allow me the semblance of dignity and move along,” Wonwoo mutters, shaking himself out of his trance, frowning. Jeonghan just snorts and pats him, condescending, on the back before filling the orders.

 

 

**iii.**

 

 

He watches surreptitiously, sucking on the straw of his oversized milk tea noisily to provide cover, as Wonwoo is called over to the side with the pretty girl from their afternoon writing seminar, the one with the shiny black hair and doe-bright eyes that Soonyoung had sighed over not even two days ago.

The girl is shy, coquettish in her demeanor even, but Wonwoo just looks uncomfortable, a stiff board in place of a human boy. Soonyoung almost feels pity for him, but the way the girl leans into him with a shy smile is troubling, how it sits in his gut heavy and sinking. Wonwoo blinks as she speaks, lips curling around her consonants, pink and glossy even from where Soonyoung sits, but Wonwoo doesn’t do anything but smile awkwardly and jerk his head to her words. For a minute, Soonyoung thinks he’s accepting what’s an obvious invitation from the girl, but then Wonwoo moves his mouth, clunky and sheepish with how his hands twitch behind his back.

Her face falls.

She lingers a little longer, anyway, but it’s visible from the way Wonwoo leans out of her space and her faltering smile that they’re both uncomfortable and ready to leave. Soonyoung chews on his lip, wondering if he should go up and save them both, but Wonwoo makes the decision for them, holding up his hand with finality and nods before walking back to his table. He doesn’t spare the girl a last look, but Soonyoung does, feeling at once sorry and gratified that she only just sighs and walks away.

He gives Wonwoo a moment to settle back into his seat before striking. “She was cute.”

“Did you want me to call her back over for you?” Wonwoo replies without flinching, rolling his eyes at him. Soonyoung scrunches his nose at him, and Wonwoo makes the same face back before flopping into the back of his seat with a heavy sigh. “I know you had dibs on her earlier.”

Soonyoung snorts. “If noona could hear you right now, she’d pull both your ears out until they reached the floor. _Dibs_ , my ass.” They share a commiserating silence over Soonyoung’s headstrong sister.

“She’s not my type,” Wonwoo says finally, staring down at his hands like they had all the answers. He knows better, though.

“Well, if you keep rejecting every girl who comes on to you, you’re never gonna _find_ your type, Wonwoo-yah,” Soonyoung teases, nudging his foot out to press against Wonwoo’s knobbly ankles.

Wonwoo grimaces and fixes his eyes on Soonyoung. For a second, Soonyoung feels like a pinned insect under his gaze, but it shrugs off the next moment with the rueful grin appearing on Wonwoo’s face.

“Probably not, huh?” Wonwoo shrugs. He looks away before meeting Soonyoung’s eyes again. “Guess I’m gonna end up alone and miserable for the rest of my life.”

Soonyoung laughs, kicking at his feet. “Don’t say that. You’re gonna have at least ten cats to keep your sad ass company.”

“And you, right?” The question is said jokingly, and Soonyoung’s first instinct is to laugh it off. His second instinct is to stomp on himself before he says anything stupid.

He swallows. The third instinct is this:

“Until you get tired of me, Jeon Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo blinks at him before breaking into a wide grin; Soonyoung’s ears are hot.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm obvious and awful, i'm sorry kait :''')


End file.
